Coping with loss

It was the worst day of my life.

I had been happily keeping a tiny little secret for nearly three months. My husband, Tim, and I had shared the news with family and close friends. However, we wanted to reach “the safe zone” before sharing our joy with the world.

On the brink of the moment Tim and I were about to share our happiness with everyone, we received the devastating news our tiny peanut has stopped developing and there was no longer a heartbeat. I had what is called a “delayed miscarriage” meaning I had no real symptoms until after the ultrasound revealed the gut-wrenching news.

I had never felt such loss before that moment, and there was nothing I or anyone else could do about it. Tim and I simply held each other as we tried to come to terms with the loss. We then had the terrible task of letting our loved ones know, bringing up the same heartbreak each time the words were formed. The outpouring of love and support from those people closest to us was the beginning of our saving grace. Despite the heartache, I felt like I was going to be OK somehow, even if it wasn’t going to be right away.

Next came the weeks of recovery. My body had to catch up with something my mind already knew to be true. I wish no woman would ever have to experience anything like that, ever.

It happened right before Christmas, so the hustle and bustle of family traditions and holiday cheer helped mask some of my outward signs of sadness. No one wants to be sad at Christmas, and I for one wasn’t going to bring anyone else down. I had my moments, but I generally excused myself to another room so as to not showcase these sad feelings to my family.

In the weeks and months to follow, the sadness would catch me at odd times. I would feel like I had gotten myself back to normal, then I would see something online or see a cute moment between a parent and small child that would take the wind out of me. A commercial could make me cry without warning. It was an odd feeling.

I have never been much of a crier, particularly in public. I keep those emotional moments private. I had never cried at my desk at work before, but I did on several occasions but was still trying my best to conceal it from my coworkers.

I have kept this experience private. The only people who knew were the ones who knew about the pregnancy and a select few who I’ve felt comfortable enough to share it with since then. I started this column in the days following the miscarriage, just trying to put words to what I was feeling. Now on the day that would have been my due date, I felt compelled to complete the thoughts I had written so many months ago.

This was not an easy column to write. It took me several tries to put this all into words. I almost scrapped it completely, but then I thought, if I share my experience, perhaps it could help someone know they are not alone. They didn’t do anything wrong. And most importantly, they can try again. It’s OK not to be OK, but one thing I refuse to do is let my grief consume me.

Tim and I never got to meet our first little miracle, God had other plans for our baby. I will always have “what ifs” that will never be answered. I will never meet my first child, but he or she will remain in my heart always. I only have the six-week ultrasound image as proof he or she even existed. June 20 will always be an important day, marking what could have been. It can also serve as a beacon of hope for what the future has in store for my family.

Contact Pam Pratt at pampratt@newtondailynews.com